“Yeah,” he murmurs, grasping my hand and sliding his ring back onto my finger. The teardrop diamond winks in the lantern light. It fits perfectly, as if I’d worn it all along. Zev kisses my palm and holds it against his stubbled cheek. “Yeah, baby, I’ll stay.”
Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
Thebriskmorningairkisses my face, threading chilly fingers through my loose hair. Beneath my sandaled feet, the stone balcony is cool and pleasant. Even winter in Arbinj is nothing compared to the cruel cold of the tundra I once called home.
The capital sprawls beneath me. Brick buildings, shingled roofs, neat and orderly streets—the city that welcomed me home as their Healing Queen along with their newly crowned Commander-turned-King.
Footsteps sound behind me, familiar and steady. A smile curves my lips as a muscled arm snakes around my waist, my husband’s mouth finding my fluttering pulse.
“Ready?” Zev murmurs, pulling me back against his chest.
“Yes,” I lie. He doesn’t conceal the gentle ripple that travels through him.
“It’ll be all right. The last letter was optimistic, remember?” His fingers trace slow, steady circles over my waist, anchoring me with his touch.
I frown. “Sorka said they’d be ‘open to discussion.’ That’s not exactly welcoming me with open arms.”
Zev chuckles against my skin. “He couldn’t very well write ‘Please come rule us.’ You’ve made more progress in just three months than most rulers make in years. New trade routes, the wielder-exchange, consistent letters and delegation. They’ll welcome you back. They just need to see you.”
Doubt still needles beneath my ribs. Arbinj has been surprisingly warm to change. Tundrayn has been colder in every sense. We hadn’t risked a visit while tensions remained high. Sorka’s ruled over the kingdom since … I killed my father. I haven’t seen my homeland since I left with Zev all those months ago.
That changes today.
From the balcony, I spot the carriages ready to ferry us across the border. I lace my fingers with Zev’s, steadying myself with the simple strength of him, and we head through the palace halls together.
In the courtyard, we bid Tairna farewell with tight hugs and promises to write as soon as we arrive. Zev guides us toward the royal carriage, but I tug him left—to a smaller, unassuming one. The prisoner’s carriage. The same one where Zev once shackled me.
He arches a brow. “Seriously?”
I fight a grin. “I’m only insisting on this painfully unworthy contraption for your safety. But worry not, husband. Once wereach Tundrayn, we’ll switch back into the royal carriage. You’ll enter the capital with all the pomp—”
I squeal as Zev scoops me into his strong arms and swiftly climbs the steps, settling down on the bench with me in his lap, hands gripping my waist with an easy possession.
“That smart mouth’s going to get you in trouble,” he murmurs, skimming his lips over mine.
“Mmm, I love being in trouble with you.”
“Yeah?”
“No. Not at all, actually,” I whisper. A shudder ripples through him, his lips curling into a sinful smirk that has my thighs clenching around his. Zev likes these tiny lies, I’ve learned, the ones that send a prickle down his spine and reassurance through his heart.
That it was all real. Thatweare real.
His lips are on mine before I can blink, and he swallows my startled gasp when the carriage lurches into motion.
I break our kiss, lifting one of his arms to the shackle bolted into the carriage wall.
“Mayah—”
“It’s not iron.”Click. The first cuff snaps shut. “I had Gregoran switch them out.”
Click.
“Oh?” Zev’s voice deepens, dark with promise as I shift in his lap. “And what exactly did you tell Gregoran about why you needed new shackles?”
“He didn’t ask.” I press a kiss to Zev’s lips, drawing back before he can deepen it. “But if hehadasked, I’d have said it’s between me and my husband.”
